


Roads in Our Shoes

by acommontater



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, trans!kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acommontater/pseuds/acommontater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light exists as neither a particle nor a wave, but as something inbetween or neither. The colors that we see everyday are not actually there- all we ever see is the reflection of the left over beams of light scattering back and being interpreted by our brain. Therefore, no two persons see the same shade of color- each one’s view of the world is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roads in Our Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place as an alt. verse after 'I Do'. (aka went much more wildly off-track with canon than I expected when it was written in 2013) The title is from 'Soul Meets Body' by DCfC.
> 
> There are triggers in this that could be very strong for some people, but are also very spoilery for the plot so hit up the bottom notes to see those if you need to. Short-hand is (to use a BttF quote) "it's heavy, man".
> 
> Playlist here: http://8tracks.com/mashedpotatomambo/roads-in-our-shoes

Funnily enough, it’s Santana that finds him.

It would have been less humiliating if he hadn’t been a sobbing wreck, unable to stand on his own. He can’t even catch his breath long enough to tell Santana what’s wrong, and it’s too late to try and wave it off because something is clearly wrong.

Surprisingly, Santana is a calming presence, getting him out of the bathroom, changed into pajamas, and into bed before making him a cup of tea. She doesn’t leave him alone, sitting next to him on the bed and stroking a gentle hand through his hair as he stares blankly at the wall opposite, letting out shuddering breaths every few minutes.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up he can hear the girls puttering around the apartment. Santana must’ve stopped Rachel from bothering him.  
His eyes feel swollen and sticky and he’s exhausted physically, but his mind is wide awake and buzzing. His hand drifts absently down to rest on his stomach before he wrenches it violently back. Shifting, he winces as he realizes that he fell asleep in his binder. The low ache throbs dully around his ribs as he rolls onto his back, at odds with the dulled pounding in his head.

Santana pokes her head into the dim room.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

He blinks at her, gritty and slow.

He thinks he should feel… different. Something. Instead it feels as though someone’s replaced his feelings with thick cotton- solid and there, yet muffled and indistinct.

Santana doesn’t know.

He shifts again, wincing slightly. A flash of concern runs across Santana’s face and she takes a step forward.

“Kurt….”

“Can you get Rachel please?” He rasps quietly.

She hesitates, but then nods quickly before stepping back out. Seconds later, Rachel appears, worry etched into her face.

“Kurt, what happened? Santana won’t tell me what’s going on and… ”

He holds up a hand to stop her.

“Can you help me sit up so I can get out of my binder before anything else? It’s been a long day and I fell asleep for a few hours.”

“Oh! Of course.”

She moves over to help him sit up. Reaching back, he pulls at the strong Velcro strips until they give. Rachel politely focuses on the wall as he shifts around until he gets the binder off and puts it in a bedside drawer. He takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders as he pulls his shirt back on.

“Okay.”

Rachel immediately turns back to him and moves to sit on the bed, reaching for his hands.

“Santana said that she found you crying on the bathroom floor?” She asks carefully.

(He’s rather stunned at her sudden tact. But he’s betting that Santana has something to do with it.)

He closes his eyes, hands gripping a little tighter at Rachel’s.

“Yeah. Um.” He takes a deep breath. Opens his eyes. He needs someone else to know, he can’t… (If he doesn’t tell Rachel or Santana he’s afraid that he’ll call Blaine and he can’t let himself do that.) “You remember Mr. Shue’s disaster of a wedding?”

“Yes…”

He focuses determinedly on the wall, not looking at her.

“I slept with Blaine.”

“Yeah, I know. You guys weren’t exactly subtle with your flirting and making out in the parking lot. Besides, I think everyone hooked up with their ex. I know I did.”

“Gross, Rachel. That’s my brother.”

His breath catches in his chest and a shuddering half-sob escapes him.

“Kurt?”

He can’t catch his breath.

Rachel shifts forward and pulls him into a tight hug, running a hand down his back and murmuring nonsense in his ear. He lets his head fall against her shoulder, the familiar almost-too-strong smell of her perfume anchoring him.

“Shhhh, hey, hey, calm down. It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhhh…”

The pounding of his heart in his ears slows down as his breathing steadies out into shuddering gasps, fingers twisted into the soft fabric of Rachel’s shirt as her hand rubs gently across the small of his neck. He pulls back from the embrace, shaken. Rachel’s wide eyes and worried face watching him.

“That hotel had some really shitty condoms.” He manages quietly.

Rachel frowns for a moment, puzzled. Then her eyes go wide, and then soft and sad.

“Oh, Kurt.”

Her eyes flicker down to his midsection and then back to his face. (It’s barely even been a month since the wedding, it’s not like there’s going to be anything different about him.) He folds his arms and hunches in on himself.

“Did you tell Blaine?”

“No.”

“But…”

“No, Rachel. I don’t… he… I’m won’t put our newly rekindled friendship at risk.”

“’Friendship’ is what they’re calling it these days?”

He glares at her and she puts her hands up.

“Okay. I won’t tell him.” She crosses an x over her heart. “But I still think that you should.”

“Thank you for your input Rachel. You can go now.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave you alone. ” She toes off her slippers and pulls the blankets down. “Scootch.”

She moves to hug him again once she’s tucked under the blankets, but he pulls away. A small look of hurt flashes across her face before she offers a hand instead. (He feels fragile now. Rachel knows and he is a cotton-stuffed glass figurine that will shatter in her over-whelming love and arms.) He clutches her hand, closing his eyes and letting her body heat comfort him.

He doesn’t cry as he drifts off to sleep again.  
_______________________________________________________________

White is a result of every color reflecting back, whereas black is the result of there being no reflection at all, all of the light having been absorbed.

_______________________________________________________________

He thinks. Blaine loves kids. He’d talked about wanting a big family, three kids minimum, and close in age so that they could be friends.

(So that they didn’t end up like Blaine and Cooper.)

Kurt liked kids well enough, at least the older ones, who were less likely to have grubby hands or snotty faces. He’d never seriously considered becoming a parent. Certainly never being… He jerks his hand away from his stomach again.

Blaine never has to know, a small voice in his head reminds him.

_“What do you think about abortion?” Kurt had asked idly one evening._

_The news was on in the background, their show over, the television now displaying images of a protest and counter protest outside of a clinic. Blaine had looked thoughtful._

_“I guess I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, it’s not like I can get pregnant or understand what it’s like, so it’s not really something I can make any calls about. If that makes sense. I’m not gonna tell anyone what to do with their body.”_

It’s odd, he thinks, knowing that your personal space and body can suddenly become an ecosystem for another life. Potential life. Life-to-be?

He knows that none of his friends would judge him if he walked a few blocks to a clinic and….

(There is some tiny part of his brain that cringes away from this line of thought. Curls away like a blackened leaf from a flame. Because making that appointment would mean telling other people, even if they wouldn’t judge him, and it would mean acknowledging that he’s… that he….)

He can’t bring himself to dial the phone number he finds.

Kurt pulls a mug out of the cabinet and goes about making himself a cup of tea, moving mechanically around the tiny kitchen. He doesn’t let himself think, because if he starts to think then he’ll remember, and if he lets himself think about what he knows then…. Fuck. His breath hitches in his throat and he sets the kettle down on the counter so that he doesn’t drop it. He clutches at the counter to keep himself steady as he hunches over slightly, trying to take deep calming breaths.

Santana and Rachel are at work and class, respectively, and he can feel the dim begins of panic crowding at the edges of his vision.

He grabs his phone, punching to the familiar number before he realizes what he’s done. Kurt stares at the name for a long moment before pressing call.  
It rings for what feels like forever in his funneled vision and buzzing ears.

“Hey, Kurt!” Blaine answers cheerily.

When Kurt doesn’t (can’t can’t can’t won’t) answer concern bleeds through.

“Kurt? What’s wrong?”

So much. Me. Everything.

“I just… wanted to call?” His voice sounds weak and watery to his ears.

“Hang on a sec…” The volume level on the other end of the line drops suddenly. “Okay. What’s got you so upset, Kurt?”

Kurt curses to himself, breathing slowly, trying to stay calm.

“Kurt?”

“It’s nothing, Blaine. I promise. I’m allowed to miss my best friend, right?”

“Kurt, of course.” He sounds so goddamn sincere and touched. “But I’m also pretty sure that you’re not calling the middle of the day just because you miss me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m….” Kurt’s throat seizes tight and tears burn at the back of his eyes. They’d always been honest to each other in their friendship. Why did he think that he could lie to Blaine now? “I don’t really want to talk about it. I just… Santana and Rachel are out and I really needed to hear a friendly voice.”

His voice cracks horribly on the last word. Kurt brings shaking fingers up to cover his face as he sinks to the floor, not bothering to take the couple steps to a chair.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Blaine says softly, and Kurt realizes that he actually is crying now, fuck. “Just, you’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“No, no. It’s just… a bad day.” He manages. He tries to stop the tears and the thickness in his voice, but he can’t.

He hears Blaine shift on the other end of the line, putting his bag down or something.

“It’s okay, Kurt. I’m right here, okay? Do you just want to talk? Like, not talk-talk, just talk?”

“I don’t think I’m much for conversation right now. I’m sorry. Tell me about your day?”

Blaine follows his lead and chatters to Kurt about his week, the awesome song that he and Brittany are working on, how he and Tina went shopping over the weekend and how Kurt would be horrified with some of the things that they found.

Kurt leans against the wall, listening, as his breathing slows- hitching every once in a while as the sobs work their way out. Blaine’s voice is calming, damn him.

(He doesn’t touch his stomach.)

___________________________________________

It’s been a little over a month now. He’s terrified that his body will start to give him away, but although he’s lithe, his frame is broad and there is no real noticeable change that a passer-by would notice. Kurt notices that he has gained an ever-so-slight pooch, but his jeans still fit and a loose-fitting shirt is enough to hide it.  
He still doesn’t know what he’s going to do- he knows that he can’t handle actually going through the next eight months. Not like this. But at the same time he can’t imagine “taking care of the problem”, like he’s in some dramatic Lifetime movie. Rachel offers to go to the clinic with him, makes sure that he’s knows that there’s no shame in not being ready or not wanting to go through with the pregnancy.

It’s the first time he’s even able to think the word and not feel ill to his stomach.

Logically, he knows that it would be the better option, for everyone involved.

But he can’t bring himself to do anything about it except shove the whole thing to the back of his mind and ignore his body. Out of sight, out of mind, out of life.

Around two months since the wedding, a cute upper-classman flirts with him, and Kurt gets horribly flustered. They get coffee and he makes Kurt smile widely and laugh loudly.  
It’s been nearly three months since the wedding, and the smell of a coffee shop is now enough to make him queasy. Morning sickness hasn’t been too terrible (thank goodness) but there are a handful of drinks and foods that he just can’t handle anymore. (It’s earned him more than one odd look from Santana.)

He’s been only drinking tea for weeks, his skinny jeans don’t fit anymore, and he just wants everything to pause for a while and let him be.  
______________________________________________________________

Kurt wakes up in the middle of the night.

He glances at his clock, groaning when it’s nearly four hours before his alarm goes off. He’s unsure as to what woke him up- he listens for a moment for the pad of feet going for a glass of water or maybe sneaking out after a not-so-sneaky night in. Nothing. The apartment is quiet, apart from Rachel’s heavy breathing from next-door. Maybe he had a nightmare? Sighing, he shifts to move to a more comfortable position and…

…pain like he’s been stabbed and is gasping for breath and is just realizing how wet and clammy the sheets under him are and oh this is what woke him up and who’s screaming….?

Lights are sudden and far too bright and other voices are shouting and shrill and a hand is tight on his shoulder. He can’t catch his breath, still doubled up in pain, clutching his stomach. Another wave of pain rolls through him, the sound and light whiting out.

He’s dimly aware of a soft hand rubbing over his shoulders and another voice talking to a 911 operator.

Why won’t the pain stop?

_________________________________________________

When he wakes up again, the room is white.

He blinks, dazed, turning to look around. All of the walls are white and bland. He’s spent enough time in hospitals to recognize where he is. Why was he in the hospital? His mind is fuzzy, so he figures that he must’ve been given pain medication or sedatives of some sort.

Something is missing, off-kilter in a way that he can’t place. His thoughts are scattered and weary and he can’t seem to bring what’s bothering him into focus.  
The soft clatter of rapid-fire heels in the hall makes him look over at the doorway and, sure enough, Rachel appears a few seconds later, a tired looking cup of coffee in her hand and red rims on her eyes. She gasps when she looks up to find him looking back at her.

“You’re awake.” She says, before promptly bursting into tears and flinging herself at him.  
He winces as she hugs him, trying to be gentle and failing as her over-abundant emotions get the best of her. Muscles he hadn’t even known existed were sore and aching and…. 

Oh.

Rachel releases him and steps back, an unsure expression on her face.

His hand drops to his middle. He can’t bring himself to look down, keeps his pleading eyes (what for, he doesn’t know) locked on Rachel.

She shakes her head, tears welling up again as she bites her lip.

“She’s gone, Kurt.”  
___________________________________________________

His dad’s face is pale when he appears in the doorway of Kurt’s hospital room.

He doesn’t say anything, just strides across the room and pulls Kurt into a tight hug as Kurt bursts into tears.

____________________________________________________

He feels like he should be sad- they keep telling him that depression is a natural symptom from suffering from a… a mis-….

(He can’t bring himself to even think the word. Because he’s not a woman and this sort of thing doesn’t happen to _real_ men and he wants to scream but he just doesn’t have the energy.)

Maybe his body knew all along and agreed with him about how wrong it all was.

(He wonders if the doctors even read his medical files.)

…It had felt wrong, hadn’t it?  
________________________________________________________

He doesn’t know how long he stays in bed for.

________________________________________________________

He tries not to, but he can’t help it.

He finds himself lingering for far too long every time he sees tiny, shiny Mary-janes or sweaters he could fit in one hand. Each time a toddler with dark curls or a bow on their body passes him by. He catches himself wondering about what ifs.

(He doesn’t tell Blaine.)

Blaine moves to the city over the summer- the sticking humid heat of the city releasing his curls and making his skin shine as they haul boxes up stairs and into rooms.

They are still learning how to be around each other again, working their way back to the easy comfort that they’d had before. They’re still best friends and everything that comes with being best friends (plus more, but Kurt can’t let himself admit to that just yet.).

Blaine, being Blaine, knows that there’s something wrong, off. Knows that there are bad days that are different from the bad days that Kurt had had before the previous year.

Holds him anyway.

Lets himself be comfort and calm, and Kurt still clings to him because he doesn’t know what else to do in those moments except let himself be held. Lets his eyes fall shut and breathing even out as comforting kisses and soothing lullabies fall down onto him like gentle rain.

(He doesn’t tell Blaine.)

September is busy- re-learning how to balance out school and work and everything inbetween. He keeps himself busy. Has to stay busy.

He and Blaine go on not-coffee-dates, sometimes.  
___________________________________________________________

October is… hard.

A cold front blows in and decides to stay, bringing freezing rain and winds that turn umbrellas inside out. It peters out to almost freakishly warm weather the week of Halloween, the sun giving one last hurrah before the clouds of winter would begin to descend.

Classes pick up the workload before fall break, and work becomes even more hectic.

Kurt loses track of time somewhere around Halloween- Santana drags him, Blaine, and Rachel along to several outrageous parties to play backup for her and the days blur together for a bit after that.

He runs from class to work, still frazzled from his off-kilter week (it’s almost Friday, it’s almost Friday….)

He stops by to check in with Isabelle and she hands him a folder of things to do as she chatters into her phone, waving him on with a smile.  
He moves over to the tiny makeshift desk he’s claimed as his own and starts sorting through stuff. Some paperwork on top he has to fill out, some articles to proofread…. He pulls out a pen, glancing over the papers as Isabelle gets off the phone.

“Some people….” She rolls her eyes. He smiles sympathetically.

“Isabelle, what’s todays date? I’m completely blanking right now.” His phone is somewhere in his bag, but he’s afraid to spill everything if he tries to dig through it right now.

She glances down at her phone.

“It’s November seventh, hon’.”

She moves back behind her desk, rifling through a drawer for something, oblivious to how Kurt suddenly freezes.

He drops his pen from limp hands.

“Isabelle?” His voice is tinny and weak to his ears. “Um, I’m not feeling so good. Is it okay if I head home?”

Apparently he looks as bad as he would have to to justify asking to leave, because Isabelle won’t let him leave without having someone come pick him up. Rachel’s at rehearsal for… something, Santana’s at work, and he can’t remember when Blaine’s last class ends. (He’s not sure if he wants Blaine around today or not.)

Isabelle ends up taking his phone and calling… someone to come get him. He feels numb.

It would’ve been nine months today.

Kurt’s aware of a warm figure, who smells vaguely of raspberries and clean laundry, helping him stand up and take his bag for him. He hears Blaine and Isabelle exchanging ‘thank you’s and goodbyes as Blaine’s warm arm wraps around his waist to help him stay upright… oh, he’s swaying on his feet.

He shakes his head a bit to clear away some of the fog. He’s fairly certain that he put himself into shock- something he’s felt before, but not like this.

He lets Blaine guide him onto the train and find them seats, once they sit down he wraps his arms tightly around his middle, hunching over, wanting the world to leave him alone. Blaine runs a soothing hand up and down his back- he can feel the worry and tension radiating off of the other boy, knows that he’s probably worrying him with how he looks like he’s in horrible pain. Maybe he is and just can’t feel it.

It would have been her birthday today.

(He knows that he has no idea if ‘she’ would have even been a ‘she’ but the pronoun stuck. He can’t bear to think of anyone, even a tinymaybe-person-to-be, as an ‘it’. He knows how much that can hurt.)

Blaine’s hand pauses on his back.

“Who’s birthday, Kurt?”

Was he talking out loud? But he doesn’t offer up any more information, just leans into Blaine and closes his eyes. The train rattles quietly as they head home.  
_______________________________________________________

He dreams of a melancholy, tinkling, lullaby and a pale green nursery.

_______________________________________________________

Winter in New York is cold and windy.

Rachel earns a bigger role after her stellar performance in the fall production and Santana gets promoted. Blaine performs at his recital wonderfully, as does Kurt.

(Blaine doesn’t push for reasons behind Kurt’s meltdown- Kurt says not yet, not yet, maybe someday, not yet…. So he waits.)

Kurt takes delight in showing Blaine around the city- ducking into the warm nooks and crannies that he and Rachel had discovered- cozy bookstores and coffeeshops, stores full of odds and ends, hidden places to lounge.

They go back to Ohio for Christmas/Channukah/part of Winter break, arriving late and staying overnight at the Hummel’s before returning to their respective families.

(If Blaine notices how Burt hugs his son a little tighter than usual, he doesn’t say.)

Time passes quickly after that- winter melts slowly beneath their quick feet and the bustling metropolis eats away at their time faster than they’d thought possible before.  
They crowd down into Times Square for the celebrations (and promptly swear that they’ll never do it again) stumbling back home at an ungodly hour afterwards. Spring semester starts and final auditions and callbacks for musicals finish up, the layout for spring trends that Kurt came up with launches with success, and February rushes up on them.

It rains on Valentine’s Day. The city goes gray and soggy under the thick clouds.

Rachel and Santana are both out on dates (Santana making sure to let them know not to expect her back that night). Kurt knows that Blaine’s had several people ask him out, yet he’s staying in with Kurt. Kurt had had a few shy offers of his own, but couldn’t bring himself to agree to go out on a day dedicated to romance (and making money) with someone that he didn’t love.

The air in the loft is… tense. The girls had left a while ago in a whirl of perfume and cheek-kisses, and Blaine’s been oddly quiet ever since. Kurt makes himself a mug of tea and joins Blaine in the living area where a marathon of cheesy Lifetime romance movies has been playing all day. He curls up on the sofa on the opposite side as Blaine’s stiff form. He pokes at Blaine’s leg with a toe.

“Hey.” Blaine doesn’t look over at him. Kurt pokes him again, harder. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Blaine sighs heavily, the tension draining out of him as he shifts to face Kurt on the sofa.

“I dunno. I- I guess the weather’s getting to me. It’s to gray and gross.”

(Kurt doesn’t turn his head to look at the tv where the soulmates of the movie that’s been on for the past hour or so are welcoming their first child into the world, blissful looks on their faces.)

Kurt almost believes him.

“C’mon, what’s really the matter? Regretting turning down that hunky baritone?” He jokes lightly. Attempts to joke lightly. Okay so it’s a little bitter.

“Can we just let it go please, Kurt?”

“No, now I’m determined to get it out of you.” He pokes Blaine again, taking a sip of his tea.

Blaine frowns.

“Seriously, just, stop, okay?”

“Nope.” Kurt says in a singsong voice. He lets his grin drop when he sees the seriousness on Blaine’s face. “But really, something’s wrong.”

“Yes.” Blaine manages. “But it has more to do with how I’m spending Valentine’s day with my soulmate, who I’m in love with, and a year ago was very sure I’d spend the rest of my life with, but who’s made it very clear that he wants nothing like that ever again with me because of something that I did that he won’t tell me about, and less to do with the weather.”

Kurt blinks at him.

“You…”

“I’m going to turn in. Goodnight, Kurt.” He says abruptly, standing up and retreating to his sectioned off space.

After a long moment, Kurt stands and follows him. Pushing aside the curtains to Blaine’s space, he stands just outside the threshold, looking at where Blaine is lying on his bed.

“It wasn’t something that you did.” He says quietly. “Well, the cheating was, but not.. not last Valentine’s. It was more something that the both of us did and I’m still… working out how to feel about what happened, okay? I just… can’t talk about it just yet.”

Blaine sits up, suddenly looking pale.

“Kurt… just, I know that you said you don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to push or impose, but just please… you weren’t, attacked or, or… right? Please just…”

Kurt startles at Blaine’s train of thought. His fingers clench around the fabric in his hand.

“No! No, Blaine, nothing… nothing like that. I promise.”

Blaine falls back on the bed, hands reaching up to scrub at his eyes. Kurt takes a step closer, still hesitant.

“Thank God, thank God….” Blaine breathes, puling his hands away from his face. “Sorry, I’ve been trying not to… I don’t know.”

“It’s… okay. I didn’t realize that’d you’d been worrying so much.”

He should’ve known that Blaine would jump to the worst scenarios first.  
It still wasn’t any of Blaine’s business anymore, but he could understand his anxiety.

“Of course I worry about you, Kurt. You’re the, one of the most important people in my life. My best friend.” His voice cracks.

Kurt nods. Right. There’s an awkward pause.

“…I didn’t cheat.” Blaine says quietly.

Kurt stares at him.

“I thought about it, that’s true, but I didn’t actually… I couldn’t do it. But somehow I convinced myself that if I could bring myself to think about someone else, then maybe what we had wasn’t as strong as I thought it was. I already felt like I was losing you and everything just got out of control. I don’t know why I told you that- I guess there was some part of me that was convinced that it would be better for you, in the long run, if you didn’t have to deal with a stupid high school boyfriend. You could, I don’t know, find someone better.” He peters off slowly.

Kurt is frozen.

“So you lied to me?” Anger and hurt welling up in equal measures in him. “I’ve spent months failing to hate you, and thinking that I wasn’t… good enough, or worth it, not man enough for you…” Blaine looks stricken. “And you’re telling me that it was just something you made up because you panicked about admitting how you felt?”

Blaine is still hovering on the edge of tears.

“I know that there’s nothing I can do to make it up to you, I was so stupid, and…”

Kurt holds up a hand.

“Stop. Just, please. I, I need some space.”

He leaves Blaine’s room and shuts himself away in his own sectioned off space.

Words are no good right now. Turmoil that he’d thought that he made peace with roils up sudden and dark, choking him in the intensity of his emotion.

(He wants to hate Blaine. But he can’t. Because he can’t not love him, and because he knows that no one can hate Blaine as much as Blaine does.)

____________________________________________________

They don’t speak for two weeks.

Kurt is still trying to figure out what he even wants to say, if he wants to say anything at all, and Blaine seems miserable, faking cheeriness for the rest of the world. But Kurt can catch him in the corner of his eye, crumpling the moment there isn’t anyone watching.

Santana seems to think that they fell back into old patterns and had sex on Valentine’s, and keeps trying to force them to talk about it. (Kurt almost wishes that she were right. That would be less of a mess to sort out.)

Kurt’s up early, making coffee before he has to get to work, when he and Blaine nearly crash into each other. Kurt is still half-asleep, clutching a mug of hot coffee, and Blaine leaps back before they collide. (Honestly, Kurt’s surprised that they managed two weeks.) He looks apprehensive (and way to awake for this early in the morning, damn him.)

“Oh, um, I’ll just…”

Kurt sighs and shakes his head.

“You don’t need to leave the room, Blaine. It’s fine.” He stares into his mug of coffee contemplatively for a moment. “Actually, we should sit. And talk. Before the caffeine kicks in and I start thinking rationally again. Do you want coffee?”

Blaine stares at him for a long moment, frozen, before promptly dropping into one of the chairs around the kitchen table.

“Um, yes please.”

Kurt nods, moving to fix him a cup. He sets the mug down in front of Blaine and sits in the chair next to him. They are silent for a moment, the faint noises of early morning in the city and soft thuds of the mugs against the table as they sip the only sounds.

“So.” Kurt says finally.

“I can, leave if you want me to.” Blaine blurts. Kurt looks at him, confused. “If you want to me to move out of the apartment, if I make you uncomfortable- I’ve been looking at available places near campus and have some bookmarked just in case, and you and Rachel and Santana were here first, so its only fair that if anyone’s getting the boot…”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Kurt holds up a hand. It’s too early for this.

“Calm down, I’m not… why on earth would I kick you out?”

Blaine shrugs half-heartedly.

“You’d be within your rights to do it.” He says quietly.

“Well. I’m not. So.” Kurt shakes himself. “Why did you lie about cheating?”

Blaine sips his coffee, staring at the table, thinking.

“I guess… it was more self-preservation than anything, I think. Some part of me figured that it was just a matter of time before you moved on for good, so it would be better to have a clean cut instead of letting it just drag on and then having it fall apart anyway.” His hands are wrapped tightly around his mug. “I can’t say enough how stupid of me it was. I wanted to take it back the instant I said it, but I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“I’m still not completely sure if I do.” Kurt says quietly. “But I suppose if it’s been this long before you told me…”

Blaine could never hide things from him- Kurt had always been able to read him like a book. Blaine has no ulterior motive to telling him, nothing that he could gain. He knows that Kurt wouldn’t just fall back into his arms, not after everything they’ve gone through, no matter how much Kurt would like it to be that easy. They still love each other, Kurt’s not sure if it’s possible to truly fall completely out of love with someone, but they’ll still need to work at it before they have the same ease as before.

Kurt offers his hand to hold. Blaine takes it, holding firmly, but not tight, as though he’s afraid to hurt Kurt.

“I’m still working on being able to forgive you.” Kurt says. Blaine nods. “And I can’t make any promises that we’ll ever be able to get back to how we were before, but…” He lets out a breath. “I’d like to try. I want to work on us again, and see where it leads. If we can work all of this out. Okay?”

Blaine takes a deep shuddering breath.

“Kurt, of course that’s okay. It’s more than I’d ever expected, to be perfectly honest.”

Kurt squeezes his hand, and then glances at the clock.

“Alright. I’ve got to get going now, but we’ll talk more later, okay?”

Blaine nods, giving him a small smile. Kurt leaves for work feeling more relieved than he has in months.

It takes them until a damp spring day in April- after several shouting matches, tears from both parties, more talking than they ever had before, and a sudden downpour- to become a couple again. They kiss in the rain and agree to try again.

It’s rough at first- Kurt learns how to be more upfront with how he really feels and Blaine learns how to communicate better. It’s easier now that they live in the same city and see each other everyday. They come to an agreement that they’re not ready to live together as a couple just yet, so at the end of the semester, Blaine moves into an apartment a couple blocks away for the summer, and signs up for the dorms for the fall semester.

They move slowly in their new-again relationship. Kurt is happier than he has been for… a while, he realizes one day, as they lay together on the sofa. (They’re supposed to be studying, but they also both agree that cuddling is much better.) Kurt shifts so that he can see Blaine’s face from where he’s wrapped snugly in Blaine’s arms. When Blaine looks away from his book to Kurt, he presses a kiss to Blaine’s shoulder, snuggling closer.

“You make me happy.” He tells Blaine seriously. Blaine smiles.

“You make me happy too.” Blaine says, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

Kurt lets his eyes drift shut and hums happily.

It’s not until after they both graduate, relationship still solid for over two years (they’d agreed to let their starting over point be where they counted from, because while it would be nice to just say that they lasted from high school sweethearts, it wouldn’t be true.) before he told Blaine.

It’s November seventh again, and there would have been four candles on the cake this year.

Blaine knows that Kurt is always somewhat melancholy on the date, but had assumed that it was something to do with his mom. They live in their own apartment now, not far from the VOUGE branch where Kurt still works or the building where Blaine puts his music therapy degree to use. Kurt pulls him down to sit on the sofa and takes a deep breath.

“Do you remember that Valentine’s Day, when we were broken up, but slept together after Mr. Shue’s sham of a wedding?”

Blaine nods, a bit mystified. Kurt swallows.

“And then how I was… distant for a few months?”

Blaine nods again, brow furrowing. He shifts closer to Kurt on the couch, reaching to hold his nervously twisting hands in his own.

“Kurt, honey, you can just tell me, okay?”

“I…um, we… God.” Kurt huffs out a breath. “After we… had sex that night, when I got back to New York, I started feeling… weird, after a couple weeks. Sick, but never for very long, maybe an hour or so every handful of days or so.”

Blaine’s hands are tight around his, his eyes focused on Kurt.

“So, um, I bought some pregnancy tests. At a drugstore down the street. Of course, Santana was the one to find me in the bathroom, how horrible is that, I was having a complete melt-down too-“

“Kurt.” Blaine’s voice is quiet, but Kurt stops rambling.

“I was pregnant. For about three months, I guess.” Kurt says quietly.

“From… Valentine’s Day?” Blaine clarifies. Kurt nods. Blaine rubs his thumb across the backs of his hands soothingly. “What happened?”

Kurt shrugs one shoulder. Up, down. Stays calm.

“Miscarriage. I, I don’t remember much, honestly. There was a lot of blood, and then I woke up in the hospital.”

“Oh, Kurt.”

“Today,” breathes in, breathes out. “Today would have been her birthday.”

“Her?”

“Just the pronoun that Rachel used. It stuck, in my head.”

He tries to give Blaine a smile, but it wobbles dangerously. Blaine pulls him into a tight hug, leaning back and pulling Kurt into the cradle of his body as Kurt starts to cry. He rubs a comforting pattern up and down his back, murmuring soothing nonsense as Kurt lets his emotion out.

He feels as though he’s setting down an enormously heavy rock that someone had given him to carry and he’d never noticed just how heavy it was until he put it down. He can’t seem to stop crying.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that, sweetheart. I’m here now, alright? Shhh.” Blaine hums quietly into his hair, pausing every once in a while to pepper kisses across his forehead.

Kurt eventually feels his breathing calm down, lets himself relax into Blaine’s body, clutching at him when he shifts.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Blaine assures him. “It’s okay.”

Kurt knows they’re not perfect- they’ll still have days where they fight, bad days, silly arguments- but they’re them.

And as he drifts off to sleep on Blaine’s chest, he’s sure, one hundred percent, that they’ll make it.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: teen pregnancy, miscarriage, body dysmorphia, depression, talk of abortion, self-loathing issues.


End file.
